


Silly Little Rumours II

by Miajah



Series: Rumours [3]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Dom/sub Play, F/M, Fights, Light Bondage, Matchmaking, Original Character(s), Torture, Wine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-20
Updated: 2015-08-21
Packaged: 2018-04-16 07:31:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4616676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miajah/pseuds/Miajah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Varric and Hawke decide to keep their relationship a secret, but then Hawke is kidnapped after Leandra attempts to match her with a husband.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story follows on from Silly Little Rumours, so if you get a bit confused it's best to start there. I loved writing a jealous Varric, I just kept imagining him shooting all the males and plotting with Bianca. :)
> 
> Rating is for future chapters where we get a bit smutty and a bit violent.

Ever since she woke up to Varric, having been shot with an arrow and carried into the Chantry to recover, Grae Hawke had been in a pretty good mood. She had to stay in the Chantry for a while to heal but didn’t mind, except the sisters wouldn’t allow her to be alone with Varric anymore after she had first woken up, which was fair enough considering they had probably thought he was killing her slowly and when they found out the two had _sullied_ (as the Chantry Mother put it) the Chantry she tasked Sebastian to be their chaperone. He would sit stiffly next to Hawke’s bedside while Varric made various comments about having Sebastian join the two in bed, the jokes began subtly enough but usually ended with Varric pulling out a coin and saying “ _the Maker can decide if you get heads or tails Choir-Boy.”_ causing him to blush and become flustered enough to leave, giving the two a few minutes alone before the Chantry Mother came in to scold them. As soon as she had recovered enough, and not a moment later, Hawke was sent back to her estate to reassure her mother that she was, once again, still alive.

Varric returned to living at the Hanged Man when he was convinced that Hawke was fully healed and no longer in danger from angst driven, spirit possessed, ex mage lover. It was easier for him to run his businesses from Lowtown, his people didn’t get stopped in the middle of the night by the guards and he didn’t have to worry about waking up Hawke or Leandra anymore. The Hanged man also had Norah filling up his tankard with beer consistently and as much as Varric tried he couldn’t convince Hawke to do that for him, he gave up after Hawke had thrown a dagger into his writing desk after trying to convince her that filling up his tankard would be good for her soul.

The knowledge of their relationship didn’t spread past their companions; they were too aware of the endless stream of gossip about her and her family since becoming a new noble.   
“I don’t want to offend you,” Hawke had told Varric one day, while lying against him on a lounge in her estate, head against his chest as she stared out a window. “But being an Amell again, after she had ‘ _disgraced’_ the name years ago, it’s causing Mother trouble among the other nobles. And her daughter being in a torrid love affair with Varric Tethras won’t help.” Varric chuckled against her hair and wrapped his arms tighter around her.   
“A _torrid_ affair? Not steamy? Shameless? Brazen?” He kissed along Hawke’s neck, curling his arm up to pull down her shoulder and give his mouth better access, Hawke moaned, her body already responding to him. “The sounds you’re making are at the very least _unabashed_.” He said against her skin, causing a shiver to run through her.   
“Varric-“ She breathed, “stop turning me into one of your stories.”  He laughed again and ran his hand painfully slow down her ribs to her hips, causing her to arch to his hands.  
“A secret, scandalous love affair between a beautiful noblewoman and a roguish dwarf?” he whispered as he dipped his hand below the waistband of her Finery.  “How could I resist?”

It was fun; Hawke had to admit, having a somewhat secret lover. Her friends knowing made it easier for them, giving either of the two a sharp elbow to the ribs if they became obvious and fielding prying questions from all manners of people. They even worked better when filling out a contract, being more aware of each other and their respective strengths and weaknesses. It worked for months, what didn’t work for Hawke, however, was that Leandra was still trying to find her a husband.

“You need to be here for dinner, Grae.” Leandra called as Hawke was leaving for the Hanged Man, “I’ve invited some guests over and they would like to meet you.” Hawke paused before opening the front door, looking her Mother over. Leandra was giving instructions to Bodahn and very purposefully avoiding eye contact with her daughter.   
“This isn’t another of your matchmaking schemes is it, Mother?” Hawke said suspiciously.  
“It may be.” Leandra said without apology, she looked at her daughter and sighed. “Please, it’s important to me that you go.” She walked over and put her arms gently on Hawke’s. “With Bethany and Carver gone I _need_ to make sure I’m doing the best I can for you.” She smiled sadly. “You don’t have to marry any of them, but just attending will help our standing in Hightown.” Hawke sighed and nodded; Leandra kissed her cheek and went back to giving Bodahn instructions.

Wicked Grace had become by far Hawke’s favourite game, made all the better by having all of her friends play. Lounging on her chair at the end of Varric’s table she finished another tankard of ale and grimaced.   
“No matter how much of this swill I drink it will always taste awful.” She complained and loudly placed the tankard on the table.   
“Oh I don’t know.” Merrill chirped, “If you think of nice things while you drink it it’s not so bad.” The elf took another swig and blanched, placing the drink gingerly back on the table. Norah walked into the room and collected the empty mugs and replaced them with freshly filled ones.  As she offered one to Hawke she refused and sat up properly.   
“You’re leaving so soon?” Aveline asked, eyeing her remaining coins.   
“I have to go placate some nobles. They’ll never leave my house otherwise.” Hawke stood and stretched, donating her last few coins to Merrill who looked flustered at the sudden noise of coins dropping in front of her.   
“The dinner Leandra planned?” Fenris asked, taking a drink, “It’s all I hear about in Hightown. I’m surprised you agreed to it.” Hawke stopped by Varric and leaned down to kiss him, noticing that he had all the winning cards; not surprising considering he had been the dealer.   
“I had very little choice.” Hawke muttered. “As soon as she mentions Bethany she knows I’ll do whatever she wants.” She felt Varric’s hand trace along the back of her thigh as she leaned against his chair, comforting her.  
“You _have_ to be there?” Varric asked quietly, if not a little suspiciously, “What kind of dinner is this anyway?” Hawke’s heart thudded momentarily, she didn’t want to lie to Varric about her mother’s matchmaking determination, but she didn’t want to have him fretting about her all night so Hawke smiled quaintly and opted for a middle-of-the-road white lie.  
“Just some of the Noble families I think. She said it was to help the Amell name’s standing.” Varric chuffed and went back to his cards.  
“Well don’t let the Hawke name get into a fight on the way there.” He pulled her down for a kiss before whispering “I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

Hawke bid everyone goodbye before walking out of the Hanged Man, double checking her daggers were still in place at the small of her back. Fenris was chuckling to himself as threw in another coin, “What are you laughing at Elf?” Anders coolly asked, suspicious about the usually broody elf’s gameplay.  
“Hawke is going to be pissed when she finds out she’s having dinner with all the potential husbands that her mother has lined up.” Eyes flickered to Varric, who regarded Fenris thoughtfully.  
“Just show your damn hand.” Varric said before throwing his cards down and collecting everyone’s money.  
  
Varric called the game early, citing business in the morning, no one complained considering he had won just about all of their coins. Putting his Duster on over his tunic he hefted Bianca onto his back and made his way to Darktown.

He stood just outside the entrance that took him to the cellar of Hawke’s estate; waiting to see the light in Anders’ Clinic go out before reaching for his key. He knew that Anders was usually watching out for people who used this entrance, which made Varric feel both better for Hawke’s protection and worried that Anders was still taking far too much interest in the movements of the dwarf’s lover. Not that Anders hadn’t since proven himself to Hawke that he was worth keeping around, he seemed to get himself together, tagging along on all their missions and behaving admirably, he had even stopped raving on about the mage’s plight. When someone asked him about it Anders said “ _I’ve found my focus.”_  Varric had his doubts, and voiced them to Hawke, but it was enough for her so he complied, to a point. There were still quite a few residents of Darktown keeping a watch on the mage, made all the richer by Varric. Convinced that Anders had retired, or at least moved to the back of the clinic, he silently turned the key in the lock and slipped inside, locking the door again behind him.   
  
Varric made his way through the cellar, stepping around the traps that he and Hawke had set up when she first purchased the property. Climbing the stairs he made his way into the kitchen and then took the servants stairs up. He popped out on the balcony that overlooked the dining room of the estate and hugging the wall, peered over at the guests. 

The smell hit him first, Bodahn had spent most of his day cooking and had created a feast for the nobles, rows of suckling pigs, pheasants and lambs graced the table along with all kinds of fancy salads and an awful lot of randomly placed flowers. Bodahn and Sandal scurried amongst the nobles pouring wine into their goblets, who typically didn’t acknowledge them.

Varric stayed in the shadows trying to recognise the guests, he saw a few he knew from his own business dealings, they had brought their sons with them, a couple of Orlesian families and one Antivan had attended whom he didn’t know. Varric spied Leandra over by the massive fireplace chatting happily to a couple her age and gesturing to a chair at the end of the dining table where Hawke sat.

Varric felt his stomach drop as she smiled and laughed with a dark-haired nobleman who had his back to him; Hawke was wearing a long dark blue tunic that hugged her waist before gliding over the swell of her hips accompanied with dark leggings and black calf skin boots. Her hair was tied up into a braided bun, her Auburn hair complementing the blue of the tunic. Varric noted that it was similar to the Finery she wore around the house, his stomach easing a bit knowing she didn’t dress in a fancy gown for the dinner, not that he expected her to. He smiled to himself when she leaned to the side and picked up her goblet, showing the slight bulge her daggers made underneath her tunic, at least if someone got too friendly, she would give them a good scare.

A nobleman that Varric didn’t recognise sat to Hawke’s right, interrupting her conversation with the black-haired man. This new one had long, wavy, chestnut brown hair, tied back into a loose ponytail. His face had prominent cheekbones and he was unshaven, heavy stubble framing his face. His coat was distinctively military, what nobles were given when they became an officer and he filled it out like a soldier would, Varric noticed the insignia on his jacket, marking him as a Captain of a ship and instantly disliked him.

Varric strained to hear any conversation over the noise of the crowd as he watched the man introduce himself and kiss Hawke’s hand, to which she smiled subtly. Jealousy panged through Varric’s chest and he realised he was lightly stroking Bianca, considering that a quick bolt would solve his problem, shaking his hand quickly he brought it to the wall and risked looking a little closer.  The nobleman was pouring Hawke some more wine while talking, before leaning back into the chair and crossing his legs. The dark-haired man moved away from the conversation and Varric realised he was the Viscount’s son Seamus. _Leandra must be doing well enough,_ Varric thought bitterly, _getting the Viscount’s boy in to flirt with her daughter._

The Captain took out his cuff links and placed them on the table, rolling up his sleeves and making himself comfortable, _This isn’t your house you nug-humping bastard, stop being so blasé_. Varric seethed _._ Hawke didn’t seem to mind as she continued her conversation with him, drinking more wine as the night continued. Varric suffered through watching this man flirt with Hawke, leaning in, accidentally brushing against her, being immensely nice to her servants and (much to Varric’s chagrin) unsheathing his sword and allowing Hawke to inspect how well it was made.

His mind instantly went to one of his short stories where a soldier did the exact same thing, except with much more euphemism, and he reconsidered letting Bianca handle the situation. For her part Hawke was dealing with the Captain politely, showing a gentle, tactful, noble side that Varric had never seen before. As much as he preferred his ale swigging, swearing, ferocious Hawke he felt amiss that this Hawke could so easily come out when duty dictated.

Varric stayed rooted to his hiding spot until the guests began to leave; he waited for Hawke and Leandra to do their duty of farewelling everyone in the foyer before he snuck up to Hawke’s room.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh, yes we have arrived at the smut.

Hawke entered her room and closed the door, locking it behind her. Leaning against it she rested her forehead touching the wood with a satisfying _t_ _hunk_  and let out a sigh that turned into “ _Maker’s Breath”._ A tingling went down her spine and taking a deep breath she reached behind her and drew her daggers spinning to face the intruder.

Varric lay casually on her bed, propped up by pillows with his hands laced behind his head. A grin spread across his face as he fronted the wary Hawke.   
“That’s no way to greet your secret lover, Cupcake.” He joked as he stood from the bed and strode over to Hawke. She relaxed and allowed him to take her daggers from her and place them next to Bianca on her desk.   
“You’re sneaking into my bedroom now Varric? Whatever will the gossips say?” She teased as he walked over and slid his arms around her, pulling her tightly into his arms.   
“Let them talk.” he said huskily as he pulled her over to the bed and pushed her against one of the bedposts. He kissed her deeply; she tasted of wine as she swayed on her feet, leaning down to pull off her boots he casually tossed them to the side of the room as she laughed. Running his hands back up, he hooked his thumbs into the waist of her leggings and smoothly pulled them down, leaving her smalls. Hawke chuckled and bent down slightly to kiss him; Varric reached up and pulled her hair out of its bun, letting it fall down her shoulders before gripping her hair at the back of her head roughly and crushing his lips against hers. Hawke gasped at the onslaught and ran her hand along his chest under his tunic.

“On your knees.” Varric demanded hoarsely, Hawke looked in his eyes and saw no compromise, as she opened her mouth to speak he gripped her hair tighter turning her words into a moan. “Knees.” He repeated, she sank to her knees on the floor while watching his face darken with want, looking up at him her body tightened; this was a side of Varric she had never seen before, he had always been patient with her, being careful and treating her as if she were fragile while making witty comments. He smiled and released her hair, grazing his fingers along her jaw.

“Hands.” He commanded as Hawke raised her hands into his, he lifted them over her head and directed them to grip at the bedpost; Hawke leaned against the post and settled to sit on her heels. Varric reached underneath the bed behind her and pulled out a length of silk rope, Hawke eyed him curiously without removing her hands.

“Now I know that I don’t keep such things under my bed. Where did you get that?” Varric threw one end over the top of the bedframe and pulled it down to secure around Hawke’s wrists, pulling the rope taught he stretched Hawke’s body into a long line before tying off the other end at the foot of the bed. Hawke was panting as she watched Varric work, her heart thrumming louder in anticipation and her brain a little foggy, she might not have let him do this when she was sober, at least not without some arguing, but being stretched out like this was making her body wetter and she groaned when she saw how Varric watched her.

“The markets in Hightown always have little things like this. They’re a perverted lot, too much time on their hands.” Varric muttered as he went over to the table where a bottle waited and poured some wine into a goblet, sipping it as he took Hawke’s beauty in. She was arched back, hair dishevelled, milky white thighs coming out from underneath her dark tunic, _only one thing to make this picture better_ He thought to himself.

He reached down and undid the sash at her waist, letting the tunic fall open to reveal her breast band, Hawke shivered as his free hand ghosted over her skin and under her tunic to the clasp at the back of her band, unfastening it and throwing the band to the side of the room. Hawke whimpered as he knelt down to kiss her breast, leaving a drop of wine to trail down to her stomach.   
“If you want me to stop,” Varric breathed as his lips slid over her nipple, Hawke gasping in response, “Tell me.” Hawke shook her head while arching her back what little she could, exposing both her breasts to him. Varric pulled away and dipped a finger into the wine, bringing it to her lips, Hawke parted her lips and licked at his finger, drawing it into her mouth and slowly sucking the wine off. Varric groaned, his cock hardening as Hawke’s mouth massaged his finger.  
“You look good like that.” He said hungrily, pulling his finger away with a satisfying _pop._ Varric placed the goblet down before stripping out of his tunic, dropping it on the floor. He faced Hawke in only his trousers and wrapped his hand in her hair at the back of her head and undid the lacing at his crotch with his free hand. Hawke’s head was tilted up from the pressure, her lips parted and eyes lidded she bit back a moan as Varric pushed the material down and his erection was suddenly by her lips.

Hawke’s heart was in her throat as she strained to lean forward, Varric’s hand in her hair gently guiding her onto his cock. He made a strangled noise as he began to slowly fuck her mouth, not allowing her to move, demanding all the control this time. Hawke’s tongue swirled along his shaft and he cried out, his hips jerking forward involuntarily before he could gather his self-control, Hawke whimpered in response, the sound muffled, he stroked he back of her head in apology before resuming his steady pace. The wet heat sent electricity up his spine, bracing himself with his free hand against the bedpost he looked down to watch his cock slide past her darkened, wet lips, pushing at the back of her throat. He began to lose composure and his thrusts came less steady, accompanied by rasped encouragements and her name. His cock swelled in her mouth and his hands gripped tightly as he growled and came into her mouth, holding her head painfully still while his hips bucked unwillingly, forcing Hawke to swallow or choke.

Gasping he pulled out, Hawke sucked in a large breath and relaxed against the post, her skin flushed with a slight sheen of sweat, she lusciously rolled her hips and bit her lip, desperate to feel Varric’s hands on her. He grinned and bent down to whisper in her ear.   
“Very good.” She mewled in response and leaned towards him, after tucking his softening cock back into his pants he grabbed her by the waist and flipped her to be on her knees facing the post, her clothed back and arse facing him, seeing the slack in the rope Varric adjusted, pulling Hawke away from sitting into a proper kneeling position.  She gasped at being stretched further and pleaded for him. Varric ran his hands down her back and over the curve of her ass and slowly pushed down her very moist smalls.

Thick, dexterous fingers ran over the tops of her thighs, curling in to graze down their inner, teasingly avoiding her swollen sex. Hawke shakily pushed her hips back, making her arms scream from the rope and grazed against Varric’s crotch, he leaned in and kissed along her neck, bringing one hand to wrap into her hair again. He tugged her head back, allowing himself access to murmur in her ear as she keened.   
“Who was that man tonight?” He asked darkly, his hand moving up to cup her breast.  
“What man?” she rasped, trying to push his hand further onto her skin.   
“Don’t play with me.” He warned before using his knee to spread her legs apart, he looked down and could see her thighs slick with her juices, the sounds Hawke were making were becoming animalistic. He slowly began to palm his hand down her stomach, feeling her breath increase the closer he got. “The military captain who got his _sword_ out for you.” He ran two fingers down the join of her sex and her thighs, Hawke nearly shrieked from the touch before he renewed his grip on her hair, focussing her.  
“H-he’s some officer in Hightown. Maker. Ainstock, Captain Ainstock.” Varric lightly brushed his fingers along her slit and Hawke tensed, letting out a long moan. He smiled to himself before biting at her ear.  
“He seemed quite taken with you, a potential husband.” He said muttered and Hawke opened her eyes to hazily stare at the expanse of bed.  
“Varric, please.” She begged as she tried to move her clit towards his soft fingers, she had caught onto his game; he was envious of the Captain and was asserting his dominance as a reaction. Knowing this sent electricity through her abdomen, she adored this new side of him, and was more than willing to play the helpless role.

“Would you rather he was here stroking your cunt?” Varric asked playfully, he knew the answer.  
“No, Varric – Maker please, you’re driving me mad.” He chuckled as he moved to the apex of her sex and slowly rubbed her clit. Her head flew back and Varric cupped her mouth to stifle her loud moans, detangling his hand from her hair. Hawke begged against him and he lifted his hand lightly to hear her.  
“Please fuck me Varric, please, Maker-“ She was grinding her clit against his hand, panting harder.  
“Not yet, Beautiful.” He calmly said, it was too soon since his own release, but having Hawke writhing and begging in his arms, it wouldn’t be long. Moving his hand from her mouth he stroked down her ass and to her very wet entrance, he gently pushed two fingers into her and felt her tighten and she arched and cried out.

Varric set a pace, trying to work with her bucking hips, he searched for that spot inside of her with one hand while still working her clit with the other. Hawke had given up on any semblance of subtlety as she ground against his hand moving between whimpers and load moans.   
“Hush Grae,” He said, leaning his forehead against her back. “They’re going to hear you.”   
“Let them.” She gasped, and Varric’s cock began to stir again. “Varric-“ her walls tightened and Varric struggled to move his fingers. Hawke could feel the heaviness in her abdomen about to spill over, begging Varric to let her come she felt him bite at her neck.  
“Come, Hawke.” He commanded sternly as Hawke’s body shook. Pleasure pulsated in wave after wave which left her in ragged breaths.

She slumped against the post, spent, and felt Varric withdraw his fingers before sinking his cock into her. She cried out as he slammed into her, gripping hard at her hips, Hawke gave up on holding herself up and relaxed against the rope, ignoring the biting against her wrists. It wasn’t long before she felt herself tighten and jerk again as she came against him, calling out his name. Varric growled and thrust harder, determined for release, he watched himself slide in and out of his lover and felt the familiar stirring, letting out a string of expletives he hilted himself in her and came.

Breathless they rested against each other momentarily before Varric pulled out of her, reaching up he untied the rope that held her wrists and eased her arms down slowly, embracing her against his chest. She groaned against the pain in her arms as Varric kissed her shoulder, scooping her up in his arms and placed her gently on the bed. He crawled in behind her before pulling a blanket over to cover them both, she moved to look into his eyes, running a hand over his stubble. He smiled and wondered how he was lucky enough to end up with her before kissing her gently.  
“I let my jealousy get the better of me.” He whispered against her hand, “I’m sorry.” Hawke purred and smiled sleepily.  
“If that is how you react to other men, I might just have to attend these dinners more often.” She chuckled and curled in against his chest as he wrapped his arms around her, growling a little. “I love you; none of the men tonight could even be _compared_ to you.” Varric smiled against her hair.  
“I love you Grae.”

Hawke awoke to the room door softly closing; she looked up and saw that Bodahn had left tea on her nightstand. She gently moved away from Varric who has still rumbling softly next to her, getting out of bed she winced as her muscles complained about her activities the night before. She saw the bruises on her hips where Varric had gripped her and stifled a laugh.  
  
Bodahn almost never walks into her room without permission so she eyed the pot suspiciously. She smelled it and instantly recognised it as the tea she picked up from Anders to prevent pregnancy; she hid a stash of it in the estate and at Varric’s room at the Hanged Man. A note was on the tray, she poured the tea and sipped it, examining the note.  
“Morning Beautiful.” She turned to see Varric rolling over and regarding her, and chuckled at his expression when his eyes met the bruises on her body, he mouthed _sorry_ and she waved him away giggling. Varric sat up as she read the note, going still and blushing all over. “What is it?” he asked, standing up he plucked the note from her hand and read aloud. ” _Next time tell Varric to use the front door_. HA!” he laughed as Hawke tried to get her blush under control and sulkily sipped the tea. “Isn’t that your Mother’s writing? Oh Maker!” Varric’s laugher probably woke up the rest of the household, “Ah, so much for the secret affair.” He giggled to himself and set about finding his discarded clothes.


	3. Chapter 3

Hawke was on her way to visit Aveline that night when she was stopped by her Mother.  
“Captain Ainstock, left his cuff links behind, would you please drop them off to him before you go to the Viscount’s Palace?” She dropped the cuff links into Hawke’s hand.  
“Mother its dark already; it’s not appropriate for me to be calling on him now. Send Bodahn.” Leandra huffed.  
“Since when were you worried about proper behaviour? Besides Bodahn has today off, he deserves it after last night.” Leandra began directing Hawke until she was outside, placing her on the doorstep, Hawke turned around to eye her questionably. “He’s just on the other side of the markets; his house has the same crest as on the links.” She slammed the door in Hawke’s face leaving her standing in the middle of Hightown with jewellery in her hand.  Hawke stared incredulously at the door for a moment before sighing and wandering towards the markets.  
“Andrastae preserve me.” She muttered.

Approaching the house Hawke looked around her, the markets had few people left from the day but the gangs had yet to come out. She checked her daggers out of habit and adjusted her leather armour, feeling it slide along her undershirt. Checking the Crest on the pins she looked for a matching one amongst the houses. She came across it shortly down one of the lanes, a blue shield with a Morningstar and two wyverns. She knocked on the door gently, looking around again for any thugs, or even any street urchins since Varric sometimes liked to know what she was up to.   
  
The door opened and Captain Ainstock grinned at her, his hair was down, gracing his shoulders and he was dressed casually, light linen shirt tucked partially into soft black breeches. Calfskin boots shaped his legs and reached just below his knees, Hawke admired them as he stepped back opening the door further to allow her access, bowing and gesturing her inside.  
“Lady Hawke, it’s wonderful to see you again so soon.” He took her hand and lightly kissed it, Hawke smiled and pulled her hand away perhaps a little too quickly.  
“Captain,” She began.  
“Please, my name is Spencer, I would prefer less formalities between us, I think we’re both not used to them.” He chuckled and took in her outfit, Hawke smiled.  
“Then call me Hawke, everyone else does.” He curtly nodded, his military training evident in his posture. “I believe these belong to you.” She held out the cufflinks and he smiled, glancing behind her, his smile faltering a twitch.

Hawke spun reaching for her daggers as she was hit by a green ball of light, her daggers and the cufflinks scattered to the floor as she froze in place, from the next room a mage sauntered out to her. Hawke fought against the spell, trying to move her muscles but she was being crushed, her limbs felt as if they were in a vice, she couldn’t even move her eyes and struggled to breathe.   
“Are you mad?” she heard Ainstock reprimand behind her, “What happened to seducing her to a remote location?” He stood in front of her and examined her, frozen mid spin. The Mage sighed and waltzed forward, Hawke could see the beginning of possession on his face in the dark lines that trailed from his eyes onto his hollowed out cheeks. She had always watched for those lines in Anders, the hollow cheeks a given since he rarely stopped to eat. The mage was an older man, cowl brought up high, he sneered at the Captain which made him back away uncertainly.  
“I didn’t have time to wait for you to charm her.”   
“And moving her from the middle of Kirkwall is a better idea? She will be seen!” The Captain advanced on the other man whose response was to grip Ainstock’s throat, choking him. Ainstock gasped for breath as dark veins began to spread up his face from the mage’s hand, he fell to his knees grasping at the mage’s robe.  
“I will not tolerate insubordination from you _peasant_. Get the wagon, _and something to cover her with.”_ He pushed the Captain away who scurried out of the room. The mage faced Hawke again running his knuckle down her left cheek, “Time to sleep Serah Hawke.” Green magic filled her vision as she passed out.

When she awoke she couldn’t decide if her situation was better or worse. On the plus side she was alone and felt like she had been unconscious for hours, which meant that if whoever took her wanted to keep her alive for this long, she might be able to negotiate staying alive longer. On the downside she had no idea where she was. The room looked like a dungeon, complete with tiny barred window and shackles, the shackles were hanging from the rafters in the middle of the room to her wrists, which were suspended above her head.  She could barely reach the floor with the balls of her feet; her body was stretched and aching and someone had taken the time to remove her armour. Gingerly she tried to get movement in her chains, reaching for objects with her feet but could reach nothing. Looking out the window she saw morning light, it had been nearly twelve hours since she got captured by the mage, she hoped, really hoped, that someone was beginning to wonder about her.

The door opened and Ainstock walked in. Hawke glared at him as he approached with a waterskin.  
“You need to drink.” He said as he held it up to her mouth, pouring the water into her mouth Hawke sputtered and choked on it, but it did ease the dryness in her throat.  
“Ainstock what is the meaning of this?” she asked quietly, unsure if there were others. He smiled sadly and brushed hair from her face.  
“You’ll see Hawke.” He gestured at the door and a man walked in, he was scarred and ugly, taller than Hawke and reeked of Bandit. The bandit grinned at Hawke; metal on his teeth made his mouth look diseased and Hawke fought not to flinch at the thought of having molten metal put in your mouth; _takes that special kind of crazy,_ she thought. Her skin prickled uneasily as Ainstock gripped the man’s shoulder. “Keep it in your pants.” He warned, the bandit scowled before stalking over to Hawke and uppercutting her in the stomach.

Aveline strode to Hawke’s Estate and found Varric about to knock on the door.  
“Aveline!” He cried cheerfully, “What brings you this way?”  
“I’m about to knock Hawke on her arse for standing me up last night.” She said sullenly. “She was supposed to help me clear out a patrol route; instead I had to take a recruit so green he looked like compost.” Varric chuckled and rapped on the door.  
“ _Compost?_ Really? You could have said something like Dandelion or lettuce.” Aveline glared at him, unamused.  
“By the time he got to the infirmary, he was definitely _compost._ ” She said carefully to him. Bodahn opened the door surprised to see the pair.  
“Good morning Messeres! What can I do for you today?” he asked in his usual far-too-happy-for-any-time-of-day manner.  
“Morning Bodahn, just after Hawke.” Varric said, Aveline bristled next to him. Bodahn blinked slowly at the two, glancing between them.  
“She is not here Ser, Lady Amell saw her leave to visit Messere Vallen last night.” Bodahn nodded at Aveline as he said her name, Varric and Aveline glanced at each other warily.   
“She did not show last night Bodahn, are you sure?” Aveline asked.  
“Yes mistress, although Lady Amell asked her to visit Captain Ainstock to return an item beforehand. Mistress Hawke is not in any trouble I hope?” He asked.  
“If she returns before we do send word to us Bodahn?” Varric asked and the older dwarf nodded, gently closing the door.   
“What do you think? Gather the troops?” Aveline asked, Varric frowned and nodded.  
“Should have let Bianca handle him in the beginning.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up everyone, it gets pretty dark from here on. If you're squeamish with torture themes then it's best to go... elsewhere.

Hawke spat out blood onto the dirt floor, gasping she prepared herself for another fist. She knew every time it was coming, but it surprised her none the less, the punch smashed across her cheekbone, sending her head into her right arm. She hung there with a broken nose and a few broken ribs, blood dripping from her face onto her shirt. Gasping for air she coughed up more blood, grimacing at the sharp pain it caused her ribs. The bandit hadn’t even begun to ask her questions, he was just using her as a punching bag.

The door opened and the mage stepped in, _the interrogator_ Hawke assumed. He walked over to her and smiled brightly.  
“You’ve done very well for yourself Hawke, gathering enough money to buy your way onto an expedition to the Deep Roads where you found fortune.” He summed up the last few years of her life in one simple sentence. “But you found something else down there, an idol.” Hawke lifted her head to look at him properly, not bothering to hold back the scowl on her face. The mage leaned in close to whisper to her. “I want it.” Hawke laughed but it came out as a rasp.   
“If you ever find it, let me know. I want to have a chat with the man who tried to kill me for it.” The mage stepped back pouting, unhappy with her answer.  
“We know about Bartrand Tethras, but we cannot find him. The only connection we have is through yourself and his brother.” Hawke tried not to make any tell-tale movements at the mention of Varric, the last thing she wanted was seeing him in her position. “You’re going to spend some time with my compatriot here.” He said gesturing to the Bandit, “And when I come back we’re going to discuss this further.” The mage left and the bandit produced a knife from his boot. He grasped her hair and wrenched her head back exposing her throat. He dragged the knife gently down her skin before cutting it into her shirt, ripping the material. Hawke breathed deeply as he eyed her, cutting her breast band apart he growled in appreciation.  
“Keep it in your pants, mate.” Hawke gasped, he Bandit growled threateningly before dragging the knife slowly across her chest, deeply gouging into her skin as Hawke screamed through her gritted teeth.  
  
Varric pounded on the door with the blue crest on it, the local merchants had directed them to here, for a price of course. His hands were itching to reach for Bianca, to shoot the Captain as soon as he opened the door. He grumbled as no one answered and glanced around checking for witnesses. The alley was sparsely populated, a few Nobles sunning themselves and talking idly. He glanced at his companions gesturing for them to give him cover. Aveline and Fenris stood around him, Aveline took her shield off her back, subtly hiding Varric as he knelt by the lock and fished his lockpicks out of his duster.  
“Any time I go outside with you Varric, I end up becoming an accomplice.” Aveline said quietly.   
“It’s not a crime if you’re with the Captain of the Guard. This is an _investigation_.” Varric responded as he felt the first tumbler click into place, he chose another pick to continue.  
“To your left.” Fenris rumbled as a man walked down the lane towards them, looking curiously at the mismatched individuals. Isabela winked to the group as she swayed over to him, her best sultry smile in place she purred to him as she garnered for his attention. The man grunted at her before stepping around, leaving Isabela glaring at his back. Fenris covered his laugh by coughing into his hand, Varric whispered.  
“Keep him away I’m nearly done. Damn fancy Hightown locks.” The man was coming closer as Aveline, Fenris, Sebastian and Merrill looked at Anders expectantly. Anders glanced at all of them in turn before letting out a groan.  
“Oh Maker, _fine._ ” Anders huffed as he sauntered over to the man, smiling he introduced himself with a “ _why hello there, Ser.”_ The man blushed as Anders propped himself against the wall, effectively blocking the path.

Varric felt the last tumbler shift into place as he gently unlocked the door, putting his lockpicks back in his duster he tapped the back of Aveline’s calf before he snuck inside.

The others followed without Anders, and walked into the foyer of the mansion. Isabela crouched down by the corner of the room and picked up one of Hawke’s daggers.   
“Something happened here.” She said as she threw the dagger to Varric who caught and examined it.  
“It’s still polished; no marks on it.” He said before gently placing it on his belt.  
“The room is intact too.” Fenris added. “Hawke is like a hurricane when she fights, if she got into a fight here we would see it.” Merrill found Hawke’s second dagger in the middle of the room, her hands hovered over it before gingerly picking it up. She sniffed it curiously and poked out her tongue in disgust before handing it to Varric.  
“Someone cast magic on her, made her sleep or paralysed.” Merrill said quietly.

They searched the mansion, finding no one to question. Gathering in a side room which appeared to be an office Varric and Sebastian began to shuffle through the paperwork.   
“What are you hoping to find?” Fenris asked, unable to help in their search, his reading lessons with Hawke hadn’t advanced enough to rummage for clues.  
“Shipping manifests, invoices, orders, anything really.” Varric replied. “Anything that looks odd and might be able to give us a location or contact.” Sebastian looked through an accounts book before slapping the back of his hand against Varric’s shoulder.

“I’ve got cargo being sent to and collected from an area on the Wounded Coast. Unless this Captain is feeding a tribe of Tal’Vashoth it might be worth a try.” He handed the book to Varric who whistled looking over the accounts.  
“That’s an awful lot of Ale. If we head out there now we might make it by dark.” He looked up at Aveline “Enough food is going out there for a small army.” Aveline pursed her lips thoughtfully.  
“We have had reports of bandits out there, more so than normal.” She said. “Let’s move quickly.”

Hawke hung limply from the ropes, her toes dragging patterns on the sand covering the stone beneath her. The bandit had left a while ago leaving her covered in hundreds of shallow cuts, Hawke groaned and looked up at the barred window, night had fallen, and she could barely see the half-moon peeking over the lower corner of the window. It gave her a little light in the room, but she was so exhausted she struggled to lift her head. She could see her stomach covered in blood from the cuts and the tops of her leggings were stained and sticking to her skin from it. Her whole body screamed in pain dully, realising that shock had set in some time ago; she tried to focus on listening, barely making out the voices of two men outside her door. The door’s lock rattled with a key before opening slowly, candlelight spilled into the room, hurting Hawke’s eyes momentarily. Ainstock walked in and placed the candle on a bench before walking cautiously over to her, gazing at the blood spattered on the floor.  He reached up and pulled some hair away from her eyes, it was stuck to her forehead with blood; Ainstock winced as he examined her face and held up the waterskin from before. He tilted her head by gently gripping her chin and slowly poured some water into her mouth. Hawke coughed as she felt the cool water run into her stomach, her broken ribs protesting sharply causing an involuntary whimper.   
“He’s coming back soon.” Ainstock said quietly, “Just tell him what he wants to know.” Hawke let her head slump back down as the captain began to idly neaten her hair.  
“Why does he want the Idol?” she asked, unsure if her voice would work.  
“Something about what it’s made of.” He murmured.  
“It’s made of Lyrium. If he wants Lyrium he can deal with Ozramaar and get it.” Hawke said bitterly, Ainstock shrugged, causing his chainmail to jingle. Hawke noticed he was in full armour, sword at his side.   
“We’re just middlemen Hawke,” Ainstock leaned in and gently covered her chest with the remains of her shirt, “Whoever is giving Cale orders is speaking to him from the Fade, it’s in your best interest to answer him.”  
“Cale is the sparkle-fingers I assume?” Hawke asked and got an affirmative grunt in response. “If his master is talking from the Fade it’s a _demon_ , Ainstock. As soon as it gets what it wants it’s going to kill all of us.”   
“No.” Ainstock said before stepping back. “Cale is in control. He’s powerful, he can handle a demon.”  Hawke sighed, the argument sounded all too familiar and she thought of Merrill, hoping the Elf hadn’t gotten herself into the same trouble.   
“What do you get out of this?” Hawke asked quietly, the captain gently poured more water into her mouth.   
“What anyone in Kirkwall wants.” He said. “To get the hell out.” Hawke laughed bitterly before letting her head slump forward again, completely over expending the effort to hold her own head up.  
“It’s not so bad. Once you get past everyone trying to kill you.” She muttered as he hummed in response.   
“Kirkwall wasn’t my first choice in living destinations, though it has suited me recently. My first, second and third choices in residence decided to put a price on my head.” He sat on the low bench against the wall, watching Hawke twist slightly as she was suspended.   
“What did you do?” Hawke asked more out of needing a distraction than gathering information. He had a hand in her kidnapping and torture, she was pretty certain she knew what he was wanted for.  
“I killed people, none that didn’t deserve to die but there were some politics involved.” He huffed and glared out the small window. “They called me an assassin, but in reality they were casualties of war. Before I knew it I had to take my ship and crew and get as far away from Ferelden as possible.”  
“So you shacked up with the mage to what? Change your identity?” He chuckled.  
“Nothing so complicated. All I need is the money. With enough of it even I could buy my way back into-“  He stopped abruptly and stood as the door opened a second time and the mage walked in.

The mage’s robe was dirty, covered in old blood which left brown stains, the bottom of it dragged along the floor every now and then, catching the dust and stirring it as he approached. Hawke could see bits of bone and skin woven onto his staff which was made out of a dark wood. He smiled and stood in from of Hawke, looking her over.   
“I trust our time apart has tempered you somewhat.” He said with the air of a noble, sneering with your voice was a good skill, and this man had definitely practiced. “I want the Idol, Serah, tell me what you know.” Hawke sighed, too exhausted to look at the mage.  
“I know it will kill you.” Hawke said shakily, “Once you’ve got it the demon you’re working for won’t need you anymore.” Cale laughed.  
“That Idol will give me enough power to control a _legion_ of demons. One is of no consequence to me.”  
“I don’t have it.” Hawke said.  
“If you did you wouldn’t still be alive. Where is Bartrand?” He asked tersely.  
“I don’t know. Probably went back to Ozramaar.”  
“ _Probably?_ ” Hawke sighed.  
“The scum left us to die in the Thaig. Took us a week just to find the right path out of the Deep Roads, got my sister killed along the way.” She said bitterly, looking up at the mage she could see him considering her words. “I can help you find him.” She said cautiously, “But I can’t do that if I’m dead.” The mage’s face turned ugly as his hand began to glow blue, the air began to crackle with electricity.  
“ _Help me?_ ” he sneered. “ _You have been useless so far.”_ He flung a small ball of electricity at Hawke, hitting her on her left side, she screamed as pain ran through her, the smell of her burnt flesh assaulting her senses. A Bandit walked in and leered at Hawke momentarily before bowing to the mage.  
“Ser, there is a group approaching the compound. They are well armed.” The Mage smiled at Hawke, who was writhing in pain still.  
“Your companions I assume.” He walked forward and gripped her hair, raising her head to look at him. “Maybe I will gut them in front of you, that sounds _fun_.” He dropped her head before gripping one the chains holding her up, he chuckled quietly to himself. “Let’s give them a welcoming call.” He cast another lightening spell onto the chain and the electricity moved through her body, Hawke screamed as she involuntarily jerked, the pain causing her head to swim and her vision to white out. She slipped into unconsciousness.


	5. Chapter 5

Sebastian peered over the crest of boulders that hid him and the others from the run down fort. The sun had gone down an hour ago and the mercenaries patrolling the fort had changed stations, Aveline and Varric were arguing about just how to infiltrate the fort, Aveline and Fenris wanted to go in as they were changing guards and the visibility was low, but Varric and Isabela convinced them otherwise, worried about the extra armed guards that could overpower the stronger of the group.   
“I want to get Hawke as much as you Aveline,” Isabela whispered, “but we’re not going to do that if we take on all the mercenaries at once. Let half of them go in for their Ale and get nice and pickled. We can shank them in their sleep.” Isabela’s smile caused a shiver to run down Anders’ spine, he decided not to fall asleep near her anytime soon.  
  
As they watched the fort, learning the patrol’s stops and picking blind spots along the outside wall, Merrill gasped and froze, her ears twitching. She turned to Fenris who was frowning and shifting on his feet, looking anxious.  
“Did you hear?” She asked before carefully peering over the boulder that hid her from view.  
“I did.” Fenris’ baritone voice rumbled easily through the dark, he shifted towards Aveline and Varric so he could speak quieter. “Hawke was screaming, we must hurry.”  
“Bastards.” Varric seethed as he pushed away from the boulder, only to be pushed back by Aveline.  
“Could you hear where she is?” She asked Fenris, Merrill shook her head quickly.  
“The ears may be big, but they’re not _that_ big.” Fenris chuckled as he detached his greatsword from his back, “I suggest we go in the front door, and kill everything we find.” Sebastian and Varric nodded to each other before standing up and shooting towards the fort wall, Sebastian’s arrows taking down two guards on top of the crumbling wall and Varric’s bolts pinning a few guards to the base of the wall, through their bodies.   
“Damn, Varric.” Anders whispered as they all crept to a fallen part of the wall, Isabela rushed to finish off one of the guards before he could pull in enough air to scream in pain. She gave the group a nod as Aveline, Merril and Sebastian followed her to the west side of the fort. Fenris and Anders waited as Varric pulled the bolts from the bodies, as Varric wrenched the bolt out from the neck of an unfortunately short mercenary he shot a look at Anders.  
“The only person who gets to make Hawke scream is _me._ ” He said with a growl before smiling at Bianca, “Let’s go have some fun, darling.”  
  
It didn’t take long for the two groups to clear the outside courtyard and push into the main building. The fort itself was run down, weathered from being so close to the coast, but he mercenaries were well established. The doors to the fort had been rebuilt, but were still no match for Merrill and Anders’ spells. Fenris led his group down a set of stairs, kicking a mercenary in the chest and sending him tumbling down, breaking his neck on the last step. They arrived in a torture room and Varric bristled at the sight.   
“There’s no fresh blood here.” Anders said quietly, nudging a meat-hook with his staff before walking past Varric, thumping his shoulder in comfort. Fenris quietly tested the only other door in the room, finding it locked.  
“Mage.” He called to Anders before retreating to the middle of the room. Anders grinned before twisting his hands and summoning a fireball which was larger than usual, moving his whole body he thrust the fireball towards the door, exploding it. A scream was cut short as a mercenary was thrown back into a hallway, a large chunk of splintered wood sticking out of his gut.   
“Damn, Anders.” Varric chuckled, hefting up Bianca and scouting the hallway.

Hawke awoke to the smell of burning and the occasional scream; she smiled and hummed as the noises gradually got closer. Ainstock drew his sword and braced himself in the middle of the room, shifting on his feet as perspiration beaded on his forehead.   
“You can still survive this.” Hawke said quietly and got a laugh in reply.  
“You would spare me?” he asked incredulously as he backed up and faced her. Hawke smiled at him and knew it looked feral through the hair and blood. Meeting his eyes she watched as resignation set on his features.   
“No.” she smirked as he raised his sword to her throat.  
“I won’t give you the satisfaction-“ The door exploded into the room and Hawke heard the familiar sound of Bianca letting loose a triplet of bolts, Ainstock Jerked and his sword waivered as he fell to his knees, three small bolts lodged in his neck. Varric rushed in and kicked the captain in the chest, sprawling him over the floor, Varric placed the tip of Bianca’s bayonet against Ainstock’s throat before ripping it across the flesh, leaving an arc of blood against the wall.

Hawke smiled tightly as Varric walked over to her, gingerly holding his hands up to touch her but struggling to find a space of flesh that wasn’t injured.  
“Oh Maker. Hawke-“ He whispered, Hawke felt her throat become tight from trying to hold back tears, she was so relieved to see him, she just wanted to curl up on his chest and listen to him read out his latest awful romance. Anders gently touched her hip, in full healer mode, gazed over her various cuts and burns, swearing when he saw the burn in her side. He cupped the side of her face and raised it, Hawke watched Justice flash through his eyes and he stumbled back.  
“We need to get her down. I don’t want any stress on her body while I heal her.” He said while his back was turned. Fenris watched him warily from the doorway, making sure that no mercenaries were near. Varric dragged the bench closer to Hawke and stood on it, pulling out the lockpicks from his duster he set to work on the first shackle. Anders stood behind Hawke and supported her arm, giving slack in the chain, his other arm bracing her hips, taking some of her weight.  
“Hang on Hawke, I’ve got you.” Varric said mostly to himself as he worked carefully on the shackle. It unlatched and her skin peeled from her wrist as Varric carefully tried to pull the metal from Hawke’s skin, showing a burn that had been rubbed raw. Hawke breathed heavily, shaking and let her head fall backwards onto Ander’s shoulder, before turning her head into his neck and breathing in his scent. It was familiar to her, and helped against the ripping pain in her limb while the mage made soothing sounds and slowly lowered her arm. Hawke whined in pain as her shoulder was lowered, the joint finally being allowed to move, her feet touched the floor properly and slipped out from underneath her as her knees buckled and gave way under her own weight.

Aveline and the others caught up to the room, having cleared the upstairs area, each one of them swore in turn and Sebastian rushed to support Hawke on her right as Anders draped her free arm over his shoulders and supported her left. Varric moved to the next shackle, his hands trembling as he worked the lock. As the lock gave way Hawke’s hand slipped out, fresh blood running down her arm as she yelped in pain, Varric jumped down from the bench as Hawke was lowered onto it, her head lolling to the side. The bench wasn’t quite wide enough so her limbs draped onto the floor, Varric knelt beside her and scooped up one of her arms, supporting it and raising her hand to his lips. He brushed some of her hair away from her face, wincing as he looked over her broken nose and black eyes.

Hawke smiled tiredly at him as half his face was bathed in a blue glow, Anders began to heal her large burn, sweating in concentration, stopping when her flesh was just red and a bit raw instead of the blistered mess it was. Anders gulped down a Lyrium potion before beginning on healing her broken ribs, Hawke closed her eyes and sighed against the weird sensation of bone pulling and knitting back together. He stopped and swayed, steadied by Sebastian, and instructed Hawke to breathe deeply.  
“I’ve got one more potion; I want to heal your nose before we get out of here. But the rest will need to wait until we get to safety.” Anders said quietly, Hawke hummed in affirmation, fighting to stay awake as Varric petted her hair.   
“We have some Elfroot potions.” Merril said from the side of the room.   
“No,” Hawke rasped, “Might need them getting out.”  
Anders nodded to Varric who shifted to steady her head. His firm grip keeping her from moving as Anders reached up and realigned her nose quickly before casting that blue light over her face, healing her.

Hawke was wearing Varric’s tunic as she was helped into the hallway by Isabela, her legs screaming against Hawke’s forced movements. They had managed to find her armour but Hawke wasn’t game to wear it against her cut flesh yet. Varric had tucked Hawke’s daggers into the sash of the tunic just in case a mercenary got too close. There wasn’t much chance of that as Hawke watched all of the companions she had gathered over the years fight together. She rarely got the chance to take them all at once and regretted that she didn’t more, especially when she got to see Merril use those creepy vines to pull the enemy closer and Fenris dive in to hack the men to pieces. They made their way out to the courtyard, setting a pace that was punishing for Hawke’s injured body but ultimately necessary to get out of the fort, when Aveline stopped in the middle of the courtyard looking around warily. Varric hefted Bianca up glancing around, his chest and stomach showing through underneath his duster, and motioned for Isabela to step back with Hawke. Hawke was propped up against a barrel near the door to the building and Isabela unsheathed her daggers, guarding Hawke’s front.

Aveline was thrown back into a pile of debris as Cale appeared in the middle of the courtyard, the ground beneath him covered in swirling black, he was laughing as he raised his arms up, the black tendrils beneath him reaching up to claw at his skin. The group backed away slightly and positioned themselves around him, waiting for something to happen. As his skin began to split and bleed Hawke heard Anders swear loudly and suddenly Cale seemed to explode outwards, replaced by a very large Demon.  
  
The group froze momentarily as the demon postured in from of them. Hawke had only come across a pride demon once before in the fade and wasn’t really looking forwards to repeating the experience. Aveline rapped her shield with her sword before letting out a war cry and charging the demon’s side, Fenris charging against its opposite flank. The demon swung at the two as the remaining team let loose arrows and spells to distract and weaken it. Isabela looked back at Hawke who nodded, shouting at her to go.

Isabela disappeared quickly and reappeared near the Demon’s large leg, slashing at it before vanishing again. Hawke watched as her friends battled, her muscles twitching as she tried to urge them to give her the strength needed to help fight. She hated being helpless, but hated being useless more. She pushed away from the barrels and unsheathed her daggers, watching as the Demon screamed from being slashed on its back by Fenris. Varric lined up his next shot carefully, releasing the bolt it hit the Demon in the shoulder forcing it to step back into another swing from Fenris’ greatsword.   
“Oh Bianca! Stop _teasing_ me!” he shouted as he fired continuous bolts. The demon’s swings became erratic as it picked up a nearby broken wagon and hurled it while spinning. Hawke watched it sail through the air in an arc towards her. Vaguely she heard Sebastian shout her name as she dived and rolled away from the safety of her barrels, the loud crashing noise behind her a warning to cover her head where she landed. Small splinters rained over her as the Demon laughed, she looked up to see Varric glancing between her and his target. She held a thumb up at him and he nodded, focussing back onto the pride demon he had to make every shot count now, he was running out of bolts.

The adrenaline was building up and Hawke was gaining strength in her muscles again, she scanned the area around them looking for something to help against the Cale-Demon when she saw two mercenaries sneaking up on Anders. She sprinted across the courtyard towards him, her path cutting close to the monster and she barely kept ahead as it reached behind itself to grab at her, throwing up her dagger she pinched the tip of the blade and threw it towards the first mercenary, it flew past Anders who turned to avoid it instinctively, and into the bandit’s eye socket. The bandit hit the ground with a thud, his legs twitching as his failing nervous system tried to comprehend what had happened.  The second bandit raised his sword to strike Anders, who was putting up a magical barrier, Hawke moved quickly to block his swing, the sword jarring against her dagger, Hawke recognised him as he grinned, the feral metal covering his teeth giving Hawke an unwanted flashback. She kicked out at his knee, pushing his leg along the sand before her recovered, countering with a fist to her side where the burn was earlier. Hawke grunted from the impact before pushing away at his sword, punching his jaw which managed to hurt her hand more than it hurt him, The bandit slashed his sword at her and Hawke stepped into his body, using her forearm to block his own and stopping the sword mid-swing, she quickly switched her grip on her weapon before pushing it quickly into his gut just below his belly button. He stuttered, looking down in shock and meeting her eyes again before Hawke ripped the dagger upwards, eviscerating him. Hawke watched as he fell backwards, for good measure she walked to his head and stomped down hard on his face, feeling his bones break beneath her boot.

Anders paled as he watched Hawke let her rage out on the bandit, she retrieved her daggers before meeting his questioning look.  
“He had it coming.” She said flatly and Anders nodded, backing away to let Hawke pass. The others shouted in triumph and Hawke turned to see Isabela straddling the back of the demon, her two daggers lodged firmly in its neck. It let out a howl before staggering and falling to the floor, the pirate jumping off just before it hit the stone.


	6. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some squishy love for you.

Aside from Hawke, Aveline was the worst hurt. She spent a few days in the infirmary at the barracks before returning to her patrols. Sebastian offered to let Hawke recover in the peaceful rooms of the Chantry, but quickly recanted his offer when he saw how excited Varric got and so Hawke ended up in Varric’s quarters in the Hanged Man. She had sent a messenger to her mother so she wouldn’t worry but really didn’t want to be around her or Bodahn while she was recovering.

Varric ran his hands along her back as she lay on his bed; he was inspecting how well she was healing, his dexterous hands massaging away any knots he could find. Hawke hummed in appreciation and Varric leaned forward and lightly mouthed at her shoulder blade, his chest hairs tickling at her bare skin.  
“We should go somewhere for a while. Give you a break from all this.” He said quietly, resting his forehead on her spine. “I’ll take you to Val Royeaux and we will hide on a boat in the harbour. You’ll wear nothing but a bear skin blanket and I’ll read you all my romances. You can pick any love scene you want to re-enact.” Hawke laughed tiredly as Varric’s hand wandered down her spine, sending a shiver ahead of it.  
“And when we return the city will have burned to the ground, and all that will remain is Aveline on the rubble of the city, super pissed off.” She slurred, fighting off tiredness. Varric hummed in response, curving his hand around Hawke’s hip to brush at her sex.  
“Then let the city burn.” He gently pulled her leg up to grant him access. “You’re not responsible for the people here.” Hawke pulled his hand away gently before rolling over and looking at him properly. Varric looked tired, his hair rumpled from the pillows. She ran her hands along his shoulders and down his arms, pulling him in to rest his head against her breasts.  
“That doesn’t sound like you.” She said quietly. Varric sighed and breathed in the smell of her skin.  
“The past few years have been one shit storm after another.” He rumbled, “This city will keep taking from you, and I would rather see it fall before it kills y-.” Hawke wrapped her arms around him and held on tightly as his voice broke, kissing the top of his head and twining her fingers into his hair she felt him take deep steadying breaths. “Seeing you hang in those chains, Maker, I thought you were already dead… I can’t lose you Grae, not like that.” His arms were trembling as they wrapped around her waist, Varric buried his face into her skin.  
“Kirkwall isn’t the same as when I first got here on that damn boat.” She said quietly. “It’s not all mercenaries, thieves and death anymore. It’s our friends and family, your urchins, but more than that it’s you. Its _home_.” He rose up and pressed his forehead against hers softly, Hawke’s hands cupped his face, the stubble pleasantly scratching her palms. “Whether I live or die, Varric, Kirkwall will always be where I fell in love with you, and I wouldn’t want to see that burn.” Varric kissed her deeply, pulling her closer into his arms. He settled her down into the curve of his body and nibbled at her neck, committing every curve of her to his memory. He watched her fall asleep slowly, a ghost of a smile on her face, nuzzling into her hair he resisted the urge to hold her even tighter.  
“Maker take me,” he whispered, “I love you.”


End file.
